


Crêpes

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, French-speaking Stiles, M/M, Paris (City), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:44:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>urmeline asked</p><p> </p><p> I have a prompt! Scallison and Sterek in some romantic European city (Paris? Rome?) and Scallison having a super romantic plan for the evening that ends up being a disaster for some reason (rain or something?) while (platonic) Sterek do something regular (going to the cinema? going to a bistro? tourist-y stuff?) that ends up being very romantic and leads to them becoming a couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crêpes

That they are travelling the four of them together is a mystery for everyone not involved.

But as far as they’re concerned, they only see advantages.

 

In the airport, Stiles and Scott can talk and play without disturbing Derek in his pre-flight ritual and Allison can do some duty free shopping.

In the plane, they can divide their time between cuddling their respective companion (Stiles knows that Derek loves it when he cuddles up to him) and going back to talk and play while Allison sleeps and Derek catches up on all the movies he refused to pay for back home.

And once they land in Charles de Gaulle airport, well …

They simply go their separate ways, until the day before last because they’re going to Eurodisney as a group, and then they fly back home.

—-

For the five days they have together, Scott has made plans for the two of them.

Romantic ones, because Scott can be a romantic dude.

First they’re going to get on a “bateau-mouche” at dusk (fly boat? the French are even crazier than he thought) on the Seine, to sip Champagne and eat some petits fours and others amuse-bouche, and watch the sunset over the beautiful monuments : the Louvre at night looks beautiful (at least on the website), the ferrywheel should please Allison, Notre-Dame will be awesome and finally, the Eiffel tower, shimmering above them as they get back on land.

Everything is going to be smooth and … yeah, romantic and he’s so going to get laid in their little hotel room back in the 20th district.

Oh yeah.

Except everything does not go as planned - why is the Universe determined to make a fool out of him?

They get on the boat, that’s fine, and the sky looks pretty enough - all orange and pink and even gold - but the moment Allison holds up a canapé with a slice of foie gras on top of it, Scott feels like he’s going to get sick, and he takes it from her to make sure she won’t eat it.

From the scent alone - and God bless his heightened senses - he can tell that this so-called piece of delicacy is actually a piece of crap, germ and bacteria.

At the next stop, around the Beaux-arts building, Scott takes Allison’s hand and they get back on solid ground.

Then Allison breaks her shoe heel between the large stones that make the pavement and they have to rush inside a shop to find her some “Méduse” shoes - wildly unesthetic but she seems comfortable.

At least there is that.

But the problem remains that he had paid for their dinner on board and thus didn’t take any change. He only has his passport on him.

Allison giggles and pulls a 10 euros note from her cleavage - nice trick - and looks around them.

New problem : around that area of Paris, nothing is cheap, or everything is beyond expensive, depends on your point of view.

So they walk, trying to find something.

And then the skies turn from lavender - orange to dark purple grey.

Scott smells it in the air before it actually happens, but there is nothing he can do to stop the rain from falling like a bucket of water on their heads.

By this point, Scott is so done with all this French shit that he doesn’t even complain and takes his jacket off to put it over Allison’s head.

Allison who is looking at him like he’s the one lightening up the Eiffel tower.

"There!" she exclaims, pointing at a little wodden door. "They make crêpes!"

They both rush inside, but Scott almost trips over Allison when she freezes in the doorway.

"Huh, baby? I need to com-" he starts telling her but she puts her hand over his mouth and nods toward a little table in the corner.

Where Derek is holding Stiles’ hand and Stiles is looking down at his plate with a pretty blush on his face.

"Da fuck," he whispers, before letting her drag him in a far, far corner.

—-

Once Scott whisks Allison away, Derek turns to Stiles.

"What now?"

Stiles looks at him with a frown as he flips the channel, occasionally snorting when he catches one of his show dubbed in French.

"What, you want me to take you on a romantic soirée too?" he retorts and Derek snorts.

"No, thank you, buddy," he says and Stiles can’t help the little twinge of hurt in his heart. "But since you’re the one speaking French, I thought you’d like to visit, not … watch TV."

Stiles jumps out of the couch and puts his jacket on. “Ok, then - allons-y!”

They take the subway from their hotel to the Chatelet, observing the skaters and the street artists grouped there, and then they walk on the banks of the Seine, watching the different buildings - 19th century ones are right next to what passes for skycrapers in Europe, and with the lights, it really looks awesome.

The minute the pressure in the air changes, Derek tells Stiles that they need to find a shelter, putting his hand on the small of the younger man’s back.

Derek sees the blush - hell, he can feel it - on Stiles’ face, and wonders if maybe this is the right time.

Nah.

As they enter the little restaurant that has a backdoor leading to a magnificent view of the Sorbonne - even with a stormy sky background it looks amazing - Stiles asks for a little table, far from the entrance.

Derek is mesmerized by the way his voice changes when he speaks the foreign language.

Gently, Stiles translates the menu, but he can’t help it : from time to time, he stops to look at the way Derek repeats the words quietly, the way his eyes dart across the page before looking up at him without moving his face.

Once they have ordered, Derek decides that screw not taking risk, he’s going to see if maybe, perhaps, Stiles would like to change their relationship status.

From enemies to friends to best friends to boyfriend, they did go a long way.

All the way to Paris, even.

That’s what Derek rambles about for the solid ten minutes that they have to themselves before the waitress is back with their crêpes.

Trust Stiles to order one with onions, eggs and blue cheese (among other things).

"Don’t dish it until you’ve tried it," Stiles says with a crooked smile and a blush firmly on his face after Derek’s sort-of declaration.

He looks lovely in the soft light inside the restaurant, and Derek lets himself reach for his free hand as Stiles lifts his fork to offer the first bite.

Ca c’est de l’amour (This is love) or he is not a Hale.


End file.
